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It means something to you.

I glanced up. “Frankie, can you pull up the info on the Tulinsky who was a chemist and send me a few of his famous patents? I’m going to check out some of the songs written by the musician Tulinsky. Then, if you have time, can you shoot me the bio and few of the book titles written by Tulinsky the author? Maybe something will pop from this round of material.”

“On it,” Frankie said.

After a few minutes, she forwarded me her list on chemist John Tulinsky. I read through the list, shaking my head. She’d listed a bunch of complicated medical cell therapies, which were way over my head. The patents and the content meant nothing to me and were, in fact, too complex for me to figure out without a doctorate.

Sighing, I turned my attention to the list of songs I’d compiled by Steve Tulinsky. He had put out three albums, all rhythm and blues. They were instrumental, so, no lyrics. None of the titles jumped out, and a quick review of his bio meant nothing to me.

I was getting nowhere fast.

“I just sent you the bio and list of Eve Tulinsky’s books,” Frankie said, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms over her head.

I froze in my chair. “What did you say?”

She gave me a puzzled look. “I said I sent you the bio and list of books, like you asked me to do.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You said a name, Eve. Eve Tulinsky.”

“Yes, Eve Tulinsky. That’s her name. Does that means something to you?”

Itdidmean something to me, but what? I’d heard that name before, but where? A much-needed rush of adrenaline surged through me. “This is it, you guys. Eve Tulinsky. I’ve heard that name before. Now, I just have to figure out where.”

I opened the document that Frankie had sent and scanned Eve’s bio. Nothing seemed familiar there. I quickly ran down the list of books she’d published until I found my nugget.

“This is it!” I pumped my fist in the air. “The Train Stationby Eve Tulinsky. That was one of my favorite books when I was a kid. My dad would know that, I bet.”

Wally came over to stand behind me. “If he’s referencing the bookThe Train Station, could that be where he wants to meet?”

“It could,” I murmured. “The old train station. It’s only about seven miles from here. It’s abandoned, but I bet that’s the place.”

“But what does the last phrase mean?” Frankie asked. “‘Check number nine, and you will be through.’”

I glanced at my monitor. “I don’t know. Let me check and see if the book is available electronically.” I tapped on some keys, going to the online bookstore and pulling up the book. “It is. I have to create an account with a new email so I can download it anonymously, but I should have it soon. Give me a few minutes.”

Jax, Kira, and Bo must have heard our raised voices, because they came over to find out what was going on.

“How’s it going?” Bo asked.

Wally filled them in while I downloaded the book.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” I said, opening it up. Colorful pictures of trains with numbers on them marked the cover. I felt a sweep of nostalgia, remembering sitting on my mom’s lap as she read the story to me over and over.

Frankie sat on the other side of me. “Are there nine trains? Or is there a train with the number nine? How does the number nine fit into things? Maybe he wants to meet you at nine o’clock?”

“I don’t know yet, Frankie. There are nine trains in the book, if I remember, and there’s even a train called Number 9. In fact, every train has a name according to their number.” Everyone crowded around my monitor, peering over my shoulder as I flipped through the electronic pages.

“But what does it mean?” Wally asked. “What’s the significance of the number nine? Maybe Frankie is right. He wants to meet at nine o’clock.”

I read the verses aloud again. “‘Tulinsky, it means something to you. Check number nine, and you will be through.’”

“Maybe he means page nine,” Jax mused. “Is there something on page nine that might be significant?”

I flipped to page nine. “Well, Train Number 9 makes its appearance on page nine—no surprise, I guess.”

“What’s that?” Bo asked, pointing to the right-hand corner of the page just to the left of the train.

I enlarged the page. “It’s another boxcar. But it’s not attached to any of the trains. It’s just sitting at the train station.” I flipped through the other pages, but the boxcar was only on page nine.